


Silence

by OberonsEarring



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 14:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16996656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OberonsEarring/pseuds/OberonsEarring
Summary: They lay in silence.





	Silence

They lie together, heads touching, hands. Like two boats seeking safe harbor, the touch and pet down arms and jaws. They are unlike each other, but they have suffered the same fate over and over again.

It was the nightmares that drew them together. Those long torturous nights when the world inside their head turned dark and frightening. Logan's first, then Scott's, with the former nearly breaking down the latter's door in order to stop the bellowing howls of pain and admonishment.

Emma had left him, saw the mark of something more inside his mind, a tiny dream that became something far bigger than anyone ever imagined. A spark of something that had been denied for the long years that the two men had known each other. It was an acrimonious parting, with Emma citing her disgust for men and Scott being left even emptier than before. He'd tried to apologize, to call her back, would have given anything to unbreak her heart, but it was too late. She'd seen the imagined tryst inside his mind, and that was enough for her to leave.

Logan's own soul was no better for her parting. Watching as Scott suffered through the torment of her digging through his mind, of revealing to the world the incredible secrets he held within had put them all in danger, and Logan couldn't help but blame himself. He knew what he was doing when he went there, knew what he wanted, what Scott wanted, and at the time, it didn't matter what anyone needed. It was momentary gratification, and Scott Summers and the mutants paid a hefty price for it.

He lost count of how many died that year. How many mutants paid the price for a moment of weakness between the two, a moment of need. And Logan was there when he fell to knees, his own brother dead in his arms. He'd lost them – his father, his brother, his son, his daughter. All the hope he had for the world died that day, too.

He was fierce at first, so torn and unwoven, a boulder come loose from the mountain. He killed that day. Hundreds. Thousands. Their enemies had no chance as they were obliterated on land, drowned in the sea. Visor opened full force, he dared the world to come at him, and when the world met his challenge, he proved once and for all that one mutant could be deadlier than the entire world put together.

While Emma had revealed his weaknesses, she forgot to reveal his strengths, and because of that, the world was taught to cower at the mere mention of his name.

He rules his nation of mutants. There are many more than before. Hundreds, thousands. They have come back from extinction, and they say his name like a mantra before they go to sleep, as if his name alone can keep the nightmares at bay. 

But he's hollow now, so lost, so bloodied. His soul is shattered, his heart, and it's only when he draws long fingers down Logan's jaw that he can feel as if a piece of it returned. 

Logan holds him in the darkness, his own tears pelting against dark hair, and his fingers clenching into smooth white shoulders. He needs this, more than anything, he needs the soft kisses that collapse upon his neck and shimmer over his lips. He needs the man to cave into his mouth, to swarm him so completely that he forgets that those kids were innocent, that Scott was innocent, that it was his own selfishness that brought about the end to everything that was good about the world.

The kisses become more desperate, spearing. The hands, they roam under shirts, tugging at fabric, craving sweat-damp contact. They peel across each other like ocean to sand, languid ins and outs as clothes are removed and the two are finally naked and together. 

Scott wants the pain, Logan needs control. And so it is. 

They fit neatly together, Logan inside and on top, leaning in on long legs, forcing knees towards mattress. The rhythm is rough and ragged, but this isn't supposed to be beautiful. This isn't supposed to be warm.

Scott brings the blood, easily healed, as he claws long fingers down Logan's spine. He huffs and pants as Logan slams against him, bringing him to the brink before clamping down on his manhood to stave off the end.

It's the kind of pain he needs, one that punishes, but promises. One that brings him close, but keeps him distant. 

Metal hips bruise against buttocks, jarring in and jutting out. Logan knows that he, too, is close. He leans in for another hungry kiss, pushing Scott deep into mattress, his weight breath-crushing and heart stuttering. Scott moans into the kiss, pulls the man even deeper inside of him, begs him for release. “Please, Logan,” he says, hoping for another round of bruising thrusts. Logan growls in return.

Positioned on his knees, Scott's legs wrapped around his waist, he hammers into his needy lover, hands on his hips, holding them excessively tight. And when they're done, when their acts of passion spill over into loins and on stomach, the slide in next to each other, waiting for the other to speak first.

He could confess himself. That he always has and does love Scott. But not without regret, not without that fear of rejection. Not because Summers doesn't love him in return, but because Scott feels that he doesn't deserve it. He needs the pain in order to conquer his demons, to punish himself day and day out for the lives that he took, for the war that he waged. And, in many ways, Logan needs the same. It's knowing that Scott loves him but will never, ever say it that pushes him into this quiet embrace every night. His own form of self flagellation, since nothing in the world could hurt him more than that silence as they lay together.


End file.
